


you keep me without chains

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash Lynx Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, heavyhanded kintsugi metaphors, implied/referenced "get this boy some fucking therapy'', the ups and downs of recovery. you know how it goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: They saytime heals all wounds.If that's what it takes, Ash is just about ready to throw himself into a fucking hourglass.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 42
Kudos: 509





	you keep me without chains

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from ["gravity" by sara bareilles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vx3ghNFMrA).

Hands.

Hands grabbing him, ripping his clothes off, shoving him to the ground. Hands fisting painfully in his hair, digging nails into his skin, holding him down. Hands forcing his legs open, covering his mouth to muffle his cries, squeezing his wrists until they bruise. Hands—

Hands cupping his face, gentle, tender, and a voice—

“Ash,” Eiji murmurs, his touch soft. “Can you look at me?”

Ash’s breath is short in his throat. Eiji’s hands are warm.

Men who stood over him, their shadows falling across his face. Men who threw him on his back and laughed if he cried. They fucked him until his tiny, frail child’s body bled, and they laughed at that, too, as they pulled their pants back up and buckled their belts and loomed over him as he lay broken in the stained bedsheets.

“Ash.” Eiji strokes his thumb over his cheekbone, and Ash jerks, forcing his eyes back to the present. “Can you see me?”

Eiji is kneeling in front of his chair, looking up at him. His eyes are full of concern and compassion, worry and warmth. Ash opens his mouth to try and say something (anything), but the words don’t come, and his throat tightens.

“No, no. It’s okay.” Eiji’s hand leaves his jaw, lifts up, strokes his hair back from his eyes and behind his ear. It doesn’t stay—it’s too silky and falls back forward immediately—but Eiji doesn’t seem to mind, because he just does it again, and again. “You do not have to talk.”

Ash shakes his head, a tiny, jerky motion. Where is he? He’s… at home?

Home. Japan. Eiji.

No hands. No shadows. No blood.

“It’s okay,” Eiji murmurs, again, and Ash’s eyes fall to the spot where his neck joins his shoulder, suddenly aching with need. His body is on fire and his mind is burning and Eiji is the balm. “I am here. Just look at me.”

Ash looks at him. His face is familiar and soft; his hair is extra-fluffy after his shower this afternoon, and his lips are smooth and pink, shiny with a hint of chapstick. The curve of his nose is soft and cute. His eyes are a deep enough brown they’re black in the lamplight, his eyelashes thick and dark, and his brows are drawn together with worry.

“Can I hold you?” Eiji asks. Kind, soft, gentle.

Ash thinks about hands. Hands, and arms, and faceless men with their bare chests, all of them towering over him in the dark.

He shakes his head _no,_ because if he can’t see Eiji’s face, all he’ll know is _hands hands hands,_ and the thought already makes his skin crawl. But he wants to curl up, to be tiny, to be held, and to be safe; he wants to bury his face in that spot on Eiji’s shoulder, and he wants, and he wants, he wants he wants he wants—

“That’s okay.” Eiji brushes his fingers over his cheek again. “I will not, then. Can you breathe?”

Ash tries. His chest is full of glass, and his throat rebels at the thought, but he tries.

He shakes his head _no,_ again.

“Okay.” Eiji takes the hand from his hair away, and Ash presses his cheek into the other palm, panicking—if Eiji’s touch goes away, he’ll drown again, he’ll fall right back into the past and he won’t know where he is or what’s going on—but Eiji doesn’t leave, just holds out his hand with a gentle smile. “I am here, Ash. Give me your hand?”

His hand. His hand, soaked in the blood of his childhood innocence. Soaked in the blood of the men who hurt him. Bloodied, soiled, ruined. His hand.

“It’s—dirty,” Ash manages, feeling strangled.

“That’s fine.” Eiji doesn’t waver. “I do not mind.” 

Oh, Ash realizes, lifting his hand from the cushions and placing it in Eiji’s. He’s trembling.

Eiji takes his hand carefully, as if he’s delicate and fragile, not a monster that won’t just lay down and die no matter what torture it goes through, and as Ash watches him with wide eyes, he gently turns their joined hands over and presses a soft kiss to Ash’s palm.

“See?” Eiji turns their hands again and kisses his knuckles, this time. “Not dirty.”

He smiles up at him, soft and sure, and then draws Ash’s hand closer to himself before Ash has a chance to answer. He brushes away one side of his pink cardigan and then presses Ash’s hand to his chest, so that Ash can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, and under it, the beating of his fragile heart.

“Do you feel my heartbeat?” Eiji asks, holding his hand there. His other hand still cups Ash’s cheek, so he can’t look away.

Ash nods. Hands, hands, hands that touch him tenderly, with love and care—he doesn’t know how to reconcile them with the hands reaching forward from his memories, trying to drag him back under.

“Good.” Eiji smiles. “Breathe with me, and feel my heart, okay?”

Ash nods again. Breathes deeply once, and coughs as the glass shards in his chest dig in, reminding him that he _can’t_.

“Can’t,” he rasps, bowing his head to hide the tears that spring to his eyes. “Can’t, can’t—”

“Shh, shhhh.” Eiji strokes his cheek. He doesn’t seem disappointed or angry, and Ash clings to that, terrified that at any second, Eiji will give up and walk away. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Ash, I have you, do not be scared. Tiny breaths are okay, too. Just slow. Slow and careful, okay? With me, Ash. You are not alone. Just try. Go slow.”

Ash tries again. Eiji’s heartbeat is strong and steady under his hand, and he tries, he tries to inhale in time with the beat, but if he thinks about anything his heart starts to race again. Can’t it slow down? If only his heart could beat in sync with Eiji’s. If only he could… if only…

“Ash.” Eiji’s thumb brushes his lip, and Ash gasps. “Can I come closer?”

“Have to see you,” Ash forces out, squeezing his eyes shut for only a split second. “I, I need—I need it to be you—I can’t if it’s not you—if I can’t—"

“You need to be able to see my face?” Eiji asks, something very tender in his eyes.

Ash nods, jerky and stiff.

“Okay.”

Eiji leans in, very slowly, giving him ample time to pull away or say something, but Ash doesn’t—just keeps his eyes on Eiji’s, watches him and leans in a little, because Eiji is magnetic and he’s burning alive and Eiji is the cure, until their foreheads brush, and their noses touch, and Eiji is all he can see.

“Is this okay?” Eiji asks, still touching his cheek. His hand is warm.

“Yes,” Ash whispers. “Eiji.”

“Okay.” Eiji rubs his nose against Ash’s with a little smile. “I am here, Ash. I have you. Breathe in?”

Ash does. It hurts, and his chest tightens, but he forces himself to breathe all the way in, until he coughs again and his eyes water. Glass shards dig into his heart.

“No, no—” and Eiji lets go of his wrist and rubs his back, tiny and soothing. “Slow, Ash. Start slow. Let’s try again. Breathe in, gently?”

Ash whimpers, but he can’t disappoint Eiji. He takes a shallow breath.

Eiji smiles at him. “Good,” he praises. “Now out.”

Ash breathes out.

“In,” Eiji says again, and Ash inhales, obedient to a fault, anything to keep Eiji from leaving him. “And out.”

“Eiji,” he whispers, because he’s getting closer to breathing with Eiji’s heart, and he needs him. “Eiji, Eiji, Eiji.”

“Ash.” Eiji strokes his cheek again. “I am right here. May I kiss you?”

Ash thinks about it for a moment. Eiji’s hand on his back taps two fingers against his spine, and he remembers to breathe, too.

None of the kisses were ever kind, but none of the hands were, either. He nods. “Yes.”

Eiji kisses the corner of his mouth, not even a full kiss—no tongues, no teeth, no drool. Just a soft touch, just some wordless affection. Just a little warm press of skin against skin. “You are doing a very good job,” Eiji tells him, smiling, and kisses his cheek, too. “Breathe in?”

“Don’t—don’t leave,” Ash begs.

“Oh, Ash.” Eiji kisses his cheek again. “I promise I will not. I am right here. I am not going anywhere. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ash’s voice is a dull whisper, and his breath hitches dangerously in his throat.

“I am here, Ash.” Eiji rubs his back, slow and gentle, a circle between his shoulderblades. “Breathe with me, okay?”

Eiji kneels there, in front of the armchair, and carefully guides him through remembering how to breathe for years. Years? Maybe months? Days? At least an hour—certainly more than a matter of minutes. Ash struggles to grasp for a sense of time, disoriented, but his hands are too occupied, and he can’t hold onto it. He’s holding onto Eiji’s heartbeat instead.

And then he’s breathing, more or less, and Eiji kisses the corner of his mouth again and says, “Good! Do you feel a little better?”

Ash nods. It’s smoother, this time. “…Yeah. Thanks.”

Eiji looks relieved, breaking into a small smile and rubbing his nose against his again. It’s soft and sweet enough that Ash’s chest tightens for a wholly new reason. “I’m glad. You are safe, Ash.”

Something snaps inside him, and like a puppet whose strings have been cut, Ash droops forward and slumps into his arms, giving in and burying his face in the crook of his neck. It’s terrifying for only a split second—he can’t see his face, no, but he can smell the jasmine of his shampoo and the cozy wool of the cardigan, plus the warm, fresh scent that’s just _Eiji_ , and he knows he’s safe.

“Oh!” Eiji sounds surprised, but he wraps his arms around Ash immediately, holding him tight to his chest. Ash clutches at him. “Ash?”

“Just—please,” Ash says, lamely. “Please?”

“As long as you need,” Eiji answers, and presses a kiss into his hair.

Ash stays like that, slumped into him, for several seconds, but his neck begins to protest at the awkward angle, and he finally lifts his head. Eiji looks up at him with the same warm, gentle worry, and the way all of that gentle concern is directed at him makes Ash’s heart lurch.

He slides forward, off the armchair, and Eiji lets out a tiny squawk of surprise as he pushes him back to sit on the rug. “Ash!”

Ash straddles his lap, hunches in on himself, and burrows into his neck again, just needing to be close to him, needing to feel safe with him. He feels hollow, like the hands reaching out to pull him back into hell have scraped something out of his core and left a raw, vulnerable wound in their wake.

“Ash…” Eiji wraps his arms around him again, laughing softly. “Big cat. Okay. I’m here, Ash.”

Ash is still too shaky to needle back—part of him wants to say _meow_ in response, but the idea of doing anything that isn’t clinging desperately to Eiji makes him teeter precariously on the edge of the abyss, and he knows he’s still too close to the precipice to risk it.

Instead, he focuses on Eiji’s hands, gentle on his back. One of them is rubbing a tiny, slow circle between his shoulderblades. The other is just resting at the base of his neck, as if to protect him. They’re both warm.

“I was a child,” he mumbles into Eiji’s shoulder, and for a moment, Eiji’s hand stills. “And they were adults.”

Eiji starts to rub his back again, slower than before. “Ash…”

“They’re so _big_ in my memories.” Ash shudders. “Their mouths, their dicks, their _hands._ I think about them and I feel so fucking small, Eiji, I—I was a _kid,_ I was—Max was talking, and Michael was there, and, and—I was that same size, I was that age, and—and they looked at a kid like him—they looked at me, and they got off on raping someone who just couldn’t fight back, and—and every time I remember, I feel so fucking powerless, because they—I was a kid, Eiji, I was just a _kid!_ Why would—why would they—"

And now the tears hit, and he chokes on a hoarse sob, clutching two tight fists in Eiji’s cardigan. It’s fucking pathetic that just looking at Michael on the laptop screen, playing some game and running around behind Max—having a normal life, being a normal fucking kid—has reduced him to a blubbering wreck, but here he is, feeling like he’s just been kicked in the chest.

Eiji’s arms go _tight_ around him. “I do not know,” he finally says, and his voice is low. “I do not know how someone gets to that point in their mind, to think that is something that is okay to do. I do not know how—I cannot even imagine what makes men into such fucking _monsters._ ”

The venom in his voice startles Ash into lifting his head, and the tears smudged around his eyes roll down his cheeks in two twin, rapidly-cooling tracks. “I… I…”

“Ash.” Eiji’s hand finds his hair, cradling his head, and then Eiji kisses his mouth, slow and tender, full of affection and no heat. “Oh, my sweet Ash.”

“I—Griff and I used to play catch.” Ash unclenches one hand from Eiji’s cardigan and wipes it furiously across his eyes. “He was, he was so excited I joined the little league team—and he—and he was already gone when Coach raped me—and then—and he died.”

Eiji’s gaze wavers. “I know,” he murmurs, looking down at Ash’s shoulder. “I am sorry, Ash. I know.”

“What if…” Ash shakes his head. “God, this is gonna sound—it’s gonna sound so fucking _stupid,_ but—but what if I got—what if I’d had a normal fucking childhood, Eiji, what if—what if I just grew up with—what if I just had a big brother who stayed home and—and we still played catch in the evenings—and I never—and no one _ever_ raped me, and—”

He breaks off into another choked sob, and Eiji folds him back into his arms, holding him so close he almost feels like he could become whole again. Somewhere out there in another universe there’s an Ash who never shattered, an Ash who has a loving family and a brother who’s still alive and proud of him, an Ash who never forgot how to smile, and thinking about him _hurts hurts hurts_.

“I wish you could have had that.” Eiji presses a tender kiss into his hair. “I wish so much that no one had ever hurt you.”

“I can’t even—god—I can’t even _imagine_ what it’s like,” Ash scoffs wetly, shaking his head. “To have never been raped. What’s that like? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know, Eiji, what a horrible thing to not know, when everyone else knows, and I don’t, b-because I can’t even—I can’t even look at Max’s kid without thinking, oh, that’s—that’s how old I was—and I—”

“Ash!” Eiji gives him a gentle squeeze. “Ash, you are not bad for thinking of your own life when you saw Michael. It is normal to remember your childhood, when you see children. You are not bad. It is okay.”

Ash shakes his head. He can taste his own tears, and his breath is too hot against his face, but if he pulls away from Eiji now, he thinks he’ll splinter into a thousand pieces, and they’ll never be able to put him back together.

“What—what childhood?” he asks, and laughs humorlessly. “My entire—my entire childhood was just—suck a dick, spread your legs, and maybe if you cry prettily enough when a grown man stuffs his entire fucking dick down your throat, they’ll take pity—and—and I’ll never get it back, Eiji, I won’t,” and he shudders with the force of another sob. “They took my childhood.”

Eiji seems to be at a loss for words. That’s fair. What is there to say? It’s not like Ash can get his childhood back, can regain any of his innocence, can forget the hands roving over his body like it was just furniture, just a toy.

“They did,” Eiji finally agrees, and bewilderingly, he kisses Ash’s hair again. “But you have the whole rest of your life, still, and it is yours. No one else’s.”

“I wish,” and Ash swallows hard, his throat aching. “I wish I could just—I could trade myself for an Ash who—who isn’t broken. Who could love you more easily than… than I do.”

“I do not wish that.” Eiji gives him another squeeze, this one harder, and nuzzles his hair. “Not at all.”

Surprised, Ash peeps up at him, still curled close. “What? But—wouldn’t that be easier? Wouldn’t you—why wouldn’t you?”

“Because, if you traded places with a different Ash,” Eiji says, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together again, “I would miss _my_ Ash. And I would worry about you constantly.”

Ash stares at him breathlessly. “But…”

“You deserve love, no matter what you have survived,” Eiji murmurs, and kisses him.

It’s a soft kiss, tender and sweet—Eiji tastes of strawberry lip balm, mixed with Ash’s own salty tears. There’s no hurry, and no heat; Eiji just kisses him with warmth and affection, gentle and close-mouthed, nothing like any of those kisses before.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to kiss,” Ash admits tearfully, once they break apart. “For myself, I mean. I…”

Eiji smiles, beatific. “I love you too,” he says, and then tips his head to the side. “Really? I thought you said you liked a girl, when you were younger.”

Ash nods. “I did. But I never wanted to kiss her.” He looks down, at the spot on Eiji’s shoulder where he’s been crying, and sighs. “I thought it was always bad, back then. Didn’t get why I’d wanna do that to someone I liked.”

“Oh,” Eiji says, and his smile turns soft and sad. It’s not pity, though—Ash knows him well enough by now to know it’s not—and he reaches up with a careful hand to brush away the tears lingering on his cheeks. Ash leans into his touch, and Eiji’s smile warms again. “See? It is your life, and no one can keep it from you.”

Ash blinks. That’s… not what he expected. “What?”

“You are healing,” Eiji tells him, and kisses him again, very gentle. “You like to kiss me, so you kiss me. That is more than you could have done with someone you liked, back then, isn’t it?”

Ash stares at him, eyes wide, and feels more hot tears trickle down his cheeks. That—that doesn’t seem right. How did Eiji… no, no. He’s broken. Right? “I… but…”

“You are healing,” Eiji repeats. “You have already come so far, Ash. And you will only get better.”

Ash shakes his head numbly. How can Eiji say he’s healing when he’s having a breakdown over seeing a child playing a game? He’s broken that badly. “I… I’m… I’m not, I… they broke me, I’ll… I’m never…”

“You say that,” Eiji says, and thumbs the tears away, “but you are already more healed than you were just a year ago, when you came here. And then, you were more healed than two years ago, when I left America and did not see you. You say that, but you are already doing it, Ash.”

Ash stares at him for another long moment. That doesn’t… that can’t be right, except that he knows in his bones it is—the Ash who sat down in the library two years back could never have wrapped his mind around how much Eiji loves him—and he doesn’t know how to respond to it.

Instead of trying to find words, he just slumps forward and tucks his face back into Eiji’s neck and whines.

Eiji hugs him close. “Take your time, Ash. Take as long as you need.”

Does he mean _take your time, here in my arms,_ or does he mean _take your time, until you’re whole again?_

Ash doesn’t ask. The answer doesn’t matter. They’re the same thing.

But his knees are starting to hurt from how they’re sitting, and he knows Eiji’s legs must have fallen asleep by now, even though Eiji won’t say so. It’s really annoying, the way bodies aren’t made to fit perfectly against each other, because all he wants is to fold himself into Eiji’s arms and stay there, safe against his heart, forever.

Eiji’s hands rest on his back. Hands, gentle and loving and grounding. Hands that feel safe.

Ash lifts his head again, slowly, and makes his hands unclench from Eiji’s cardigan, smoothing it out against his back. “I…”

He can’t go on for a moment; Eiji is looking at him with so much adoration that the words die in his throat.

“I love you,” he whispers, and presses his lips to Eiji’s mouth, more just to touch him than a real kiss. “I love you so fucking much, Eiji, I do, god help me.”

Eiji smiles against his mouth. “I know. I love you, too.”

“You do,” Ash breathes, and kisses him again, more of a kiss than before, but still soft, still sweet. “You love me.”

Eiji just nods, closing his eyes and nuzzling Ash’s cheek. “Your life is yours,” he says after a moment. “No one will ever take it from you again. And you have as long as you need to heal and to be happy.”

“You make me happy,” Ash tells him, because he needs him to know, even though he still feels hollow and raw and delicate, like glass that’s been blown just a hair too thin. He needs Eiji to know how much he means, needs him to stay. “You do.”

“I know.” Eiji kisses his cheek. “You make me happy, too.” And then, because he hears the plea behind Ash’s words, he kisses his cheek again and adds, “And I am not going anywhere. I promise.”

They sit together a moment longer. Eiji rubs the back of his shoulder, kisses his jaw, and sighs softly.

Ash lets out a slow breath and shifts, scooting out of his lap, and Eiji lets out a tiny noise of surprise. “Ash?”

“Just rearranging.” Ash considers stretching and rolling his shoulders—they’re stiff and he’s tired—but his body recoils at the idea of opening up, so he wraps his arms around himself instead.

Eiji looks at him for a moment, shifting, and winces slightly as he moves his legs. _Bingo_ , Ash thinks, a little guilty, and then Eiji sighs and gets to his feet.

A tiny jolt of panic bursts through Ash—there’s a man standing over him as he sits on his knees on the ground—and he reels. But Eiji isn’t like that—Eiji wouldn’t—

“Come on,” Eiji says, holding out both hands, and Ash blinks to clear the terror from his vision. “You should wash your face. You will feel better.”

Ash reminds himself to breathe, nods, and puts his hands in Eiji’s. Eiji pulls him to his feet, and Ash hesitates before he just slumps forward into his chest.

“Hi,” Eiji says, laughing softly, and lets go of his hands to hug him again. “Are you feeling okay? Your heart is pounding.”

“I’m fine,” Ash mumbles, head bowed, and presses tentative hands against Eiji’s back. “Just… on edge.”

Eiji coos sympathetically, rubbing his back. “Oh, Ash… how about this? You go wash up, and I will make you some chamomile tea. It is good for helping you feel calmer.”

Ash tightens his arms around him, not wanting to let go even for a moment—will the inferno consume him again if Eiji leaves?—but nods and blows out a breath again. “Okay. That sounds… that sounds good. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Eiji gently bumps his head against his, affectionate, and lets go of him; Ash takes a slow breath, in and out, and thinks about the touch of Eiji’s hands, and the feeling of his heartbeat, as he walks to the bathroom.

He splashes cool water on his face and gasps at the shock of it, blows his nose until it’s red enough he could give Rudolph a run for his money, and stares at the pathetic boy in the mirror. His hair is a mess, his eyes are red-rimmed, and his cheeks are blotchy; he looks stupid, with so much red in his face right next to the green of his eyes.

And they used to say he was a pretty crier.

He shoves that thought away violently, dries his face, and pointedly doesn’t look at the mirror as he flicks the lights off and hurries to go find Eiji.

In the kitchen, Eiji’s pouring boiling water into a ceramic teapot, the one from the back of the cabinet that Ash has only seen him use once. It’s light grey, glazed with a delicate cherry blossom pattern, but it has weird golden lines that cut through the branches, almost like the cracks after being shattered. It has two matching teacups, but neither of them has the gold. He’s never quite gotten it.

Eiji looks up when he sees Ash enter, his face brightening. The steam already smells soothing as he puts the lid on the pot and comes to him, reaching up to stroke his hair away from his face again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Ash mumbles, and leans his cheek into his hand. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Anytime.” Eiji pulls away again, leaving Ash to stand there pathetically missing the warmth of his touch, and picks up the tray the pot and cups are resting on. “Let’s take this to the sofa? Or do you want to lie down after?”

“Sofa’s fine.” Ash is pretty sure if he tries to take a nap right now, the nightmares will eat him alive. “Need me to hold it…?”

“No, I think I can manage a tray,” Eiji says wryly, but he leans up on his toes and kisses Ash’s cheek as he passes.

They settle in the living room again, this time on the couch instead of the floor, and while they wait for the tea to steep, Ash curls up on his side, laying his head on Eiji’s thigh. Eiji’s hand finds its way into his hair, his fingers gently stroking against his scalp, and he sighs.

Hands, hands, hands. Eiji’s hands are always kind. Even if they playfight, Eiji is kind with him, never ever trying to hurt him. Eiji treats him so well, tells him that this is how he deserves to have been treated all along. Eiji’s too good to him. He’s so lucky.

“How are you feeling now?” Eiji asks, carding his fingers through his hair. “Better?”

“Kind of,” Ash mumbles. He doesn’t want Eiji to let go, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to face the world normally—if he has to, he can, but it’ll be the way he did two years ago, when he shoved every ounce of vulnerability deep down and pretended nothing could hurt him. He doesn’t want to do that anymore. Maybe that means Eiji is right, about the healing thing. “But… still bad.”

“I am glad it’s better, at least a little.” Eiji twirls a lock of his hair around his finger. “Do you want to keep talking about it?”

Ash shrugs noncommitally. “Dunno. Not sure what to say. Everything’s just… fucked up. I was… I was so fucking little. Who gives a shit, though, it’s all done already.”

“Mm.” Eiji doesn’t seem completely satisfied with that, but he lets it slide. “I guess. But sometimes just talking about it can help, even if there is nothing to be _done_ for it. I cannot change the past, but I like to think I can help you with the present, and maybe the future, right?”

Ash turns his head to press a tiny kiss to Eiji’s knee. “You’re a saint.”

Eiji softens. “I do not think so. I think your standards for how people treat you just need to be higher.”

Ash snorts. “Well, they didn’t exactly get set real high before, so you’re probably right.”

Eiji scrunches his fingers through his hair and sighs. “You will be okay, Ash,” he says, and takes Ash’s hand to lift it to his mouth and kiss his fingers. “I will take care of you.”

Ash touches his cheek. His skin is always baby-soft (it’s very endearing). “I… still think I gotta get used to that,” he admits softly. “Letting you take care of me.”

“You are doing much better than you used to,” Eiji tells him, and kisses his palm.

Ash smiles and lays his hand over Eiji’s, atop his own head. Eiji smiles back, and they sit in a companionable silence for a few seconds. Ash lays there and stares at the cups and the tray.

“What’s with the teapot?” he finally asks, waving his hand at the tray before laying it back on Eiji’s leg. “Looks… kind of funky.”

“Hm?” Eiji blinks. “Oh! You mean the cracks? It is called _kintsugi,”_ he says, and there’s a special kind of pride in his voice that Ash can’t quite place. “It is an old Japanese tradition of repairing broken things in a way that embraces the fact that they broke, as part of their story. This set was a present from my old coach, when I left the team because of my injury. I dropped it while I was packing to move here from home, and my mother got it repaired for me.”

“Oh.” Ash looks at the teapot again, considering; it was something precious, and then it broke. He imagines Eiji holding it when it was seamless and whole, and then thinks about Eiji, alone again, breaking the gift from his old coach after coming home from hell.

He reaches up and takes Eiji’s hand and intertwines their fingers, brings their hands down, and kisses his wrist, his knuckles, his palm.

“What’s that for?” Eiji squeezes his hand. “Sap.”

“No reason.” Ash kisses the pads of his fingers, too, _one two three four_ soft kisses across each one. “Just… wanna kiss you.”

“Ash,” Eiji says, immeasurably fond, and then stops. When Ash turns his head to look up at him, he’s smiling.

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself.” Ash drops his eyes back to Eiji’s hand, looking at the remnants of the calluses on his fingers, the lines crisscrossing his palms. “You’re the first person I ever wanted to kiss. I’ve never kissed anyone just ‘cuz I wanted to, before you. But I kissed so many people. Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

“No.” Eiji’s other hand comes to rest atop his head, fingers twining into his hair. “Why would it?”

Ash makes a tiny frustrated noise. Why _wouldn’t_ it? “Because I took all your firsts, but other people all took mine. It doesn’t—it’s not fair to you, is it?”

“I am sorry.” Eiji hesitates. “I do… I do not think I understand what you mean. If—because if we are saying it’s not fair to anyone, what happened to you versus what did not happen to me—”

Ash shudders, a full-body reaction of immediate, visceral horror that crashes over him at even just the idea of any of what happened to him having happened to Eiji. _“No—”_

“Shit, sorry, sorry!” Eiji gathers him into his arms, cradles him against his chest, and looks down with worry. “What was it I said?”

“Nothing,” Ash rasps, turning to press his face into his shirt. He can hear his heart beating again. Fragile, yes, but so strong. “I just—I had a bad thought of—about—about—ngh!”

“You do not have to say it,” Eiji reminds him, and kisses the top of his head. “If it is harder, do not.”

“I know.” Ash squeezes his eyes shut against the thoughts, then opens them immediately because he can already remember seeing Eiji with torn clothes in a locked bedroom in Dino’s mansion, and the darkness on the inside of his eyelids only makes it worse. “I know. Sorry.”

“Why sorry?” Eiji rocks him gently. “Don’t be.”

“I interrupted you.” Ash listens to his heartbeat for a few seconds again. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. “What were you saying?”

“Oh.” Eiji tips his head down, presses his face into Ash’s hair for a moment. “I was just saying… if this is unfair to anyone, it’s you, right? Not me.”

“How the hell d’you arrive at _that_ conclusion?” Ash cranes his neck to look up at him, incredulous. “I’m the one who’s damaged goods that you keep having to take care of.”

Eiji looks away. “You are not the only one who is damaged goods,” he says quietly, and Ash could kick himself for implying that Eiji doesn’t have trauma too, that Eiji’s life is all sunshine and rainbows, that Eiji never panics or breaks down or cries like him.

He grabs pathetically at Eiji’s shoulders, clutches at him like a weak, terrified baby. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—that’s not how I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Eiji—”

Eiji hugs him tight again. “No, no, shh, I am not mad at you! Why are you sorry?”

“I—” Ash peeps up at him. He smells like jasmine. “Because I… I made it sound like you’re not ever allowed to be upset?”

Eiji looks at him oddly. “No, you didn’t?”

Ash blinks. “But… then what did you mean?”

Eiji opens his mouth, considers, and then closes it again, shaking his head. “Never mind that. I, um… it’s not important right now. I just, um, Ash… I do not feel at all like it’s unfair to me.”

Ash studies him for a moment. The way he isn’t meeting his gaze, brown eyes muddled with some kind of hesitation, makes him think it _is_ important, but if Eiji doesn’t want to talk about it right now… he doesn’t have it in him to push, not today. So he drops it and tucks his face back into Eiji’s chest and asks, “Why not?”

“Why would it be?” Eiji returns. “Even if—none of what happened to you was—I don’t—Ash,” and he breaks off, looking a little frustrated. “I don’t know how to say it right in English. Hold on.”

Ash closes his eyes carefully and lets him have a moment to think, shifting his weight in the meantime so he’s not leaning so heavily against his leg and can snuggle into his chest more easily. Eiji’s always warm; it’s comforting, when he’s feeling this shaky.

Eiji isn’t upset with him. Eiji loves him. He said so, just a few minutes ago. He just needs a minute to gather his thoughts. This happens, sometimes. It doesn’t mean Eiji’s upset with him.

“It’s two things,” Eiji says, breaking the silence. “First, even if any of what you experienced was something you wanted, that would not diminish the fact that you love me now, and that I love you just as much. Why would it? But, also, Ash… I _am_ getting your firsts, just like you are getting mine.”

There’s a hard lump in his throat again, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t want any of it,” he whispers, because he knows that Eiji knows, but he has to say it, or he’ll shrivel up and die on the spot. “I didn’t.”

“I know.” Eiji tightens his arms around him. “I know you didn’t.”

“A lot of them would say I did.” Ash nearly chokes on the words, thinking of sleazy smiles and wandering hands, hands that would slip between his legs and darkened eyes that would watch his face for a reaction. Thinks of faking it for them, of the calculated arch of his back and the practiced moans as he felt nothing, nothing, nothing. Thinks of going limp and letting men take what they wanted from him, letting them think he was into it because it would get him what he wanted _._ “I seduced plenty of them, so I mean, they—they’d be right.”

“No, they wouldn’t.” Eiji kisses his hair, soft and tender. It’s a sharp contrast to the men in his mind, and he knows—he _knows_ —Eiji is nothing like them, but it still brings tears stinging to his eyes. No one was tender with him. None of them would kiss his hair just to comfort him.

So many men who touched him, and not a single one kissed his hair like this.

“Did you seduce them because you wanted to, or because you or someone you cared for might have been hurt or killed otherwise?”

Ash grits his teeth against the tears. He doesn’t need to answer; his silence is answer enough. Their faces all blur together, but he remembers—he remembers their hands.

“Exactly.” Eiji kisses his head again. How does he love so deeply and so endlessly? How does he never run out of patience with Ash and his bullshit? “You didn’t want it, Ash. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

Ash takes a deep, shuddering breath and curls in closer to him. “A lot of times… a lot of times I think I did ask for it, at least parts of it,” he manages, “but the first time, when it all started… I was a _baby._ I was a fucking baby, I was just Michael’s age—who looks at a kid that age and… and…”

He exhales hard, shaking his head. Who looks at a kid like that and thinks, perfect, a sex toy? Hah! More like who _doesn’t?_ A revolving door of men, all of them paying good money to Dino for an hour, an evening, a night with Ash, his little green-eyed angel.

Nausea churns in his gut.

“Eiji. Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” Eiji rubs his back, a little circle traced on the back of his shoulder. “Anything.”

Ash takes another deep breath, closing his eyes again. The blood roars in his ears. “Do you ever also want to just fuck me? Be honest.”

Eiji stiffens and inhales sharply. “No!”

Ash lifts his head, surprised, and blinks. That’s… not what he expected. “Really? You—you don’t actually find me attractive at all?”

Eiji looks incredibly unimpressed, his mouth pressed into a firm, flat line. “There is a huge difference between finding you attractive and wanting to _fuck you,_ Ash. I—yes, I do think you are attractive. No, I do not want to—I would _never_ want to ‘just fuck you’.”

There’s a rosy stain in his cheeks, but Ash only notices it in passing, too bewildered. “What do you mean?”

Eiji presses his lips together, then relents and sighs. “Hold on,” he says, and pulls away, dislodging Ash to reach for the tray. “The tea should be ready to drink now. Here,” and he pours a cup as Ash sits upright, feeling vaguely like he just got bulldozed but not sure why.

“Thanks,” he mutters, accepting the cup; he tries to take a sip, but it’s too hot, and he jerks his head back immediately. “Um… what…?”

Eiji reaches for his hand, takes it, and intertwines their fingers, clasping his hand in both of his.

Hands. Hands that hold each other, for no reason other than to show love.

“Ash… just because I am, um, attracted to you, does not mean I have any desire to have sex with you. I—” and he breaks off, letting go with one hand to rub the back of his neck.

It’s a sheepish and shy gesture, so quintessentially _Eiji_ that it breaks through the strange block in Ash’s head. He blinks, surprised, as Eiji peeps at him. Is it that easy? Eiji can still be _Eiji_ even while being attracted to him?

Eiji blows out a tiny breath. “I mean, I would rather know you are safe and happy. And if that means we never, um, have sex, that is fine with me. And if we ever did, um… I… I would never want—not like _that._ I would want to go slow, both for your sake and, for, for myself? And…”

He trails off, blushing furiously, and Ash is left to stare breathlessly at his pink cheeks, enchanted. “Eiji…”

“It would only be something I would ever want to do if it would make you happy!” Eiji bursts out, squeezing his eyes shut and hiding his face behind one hand. “Not otherwise!”

Ash blinks.

Blinks again.

If it would make him happy…?

The Ash of two years ago would’ve scoffed at the idea immediately, would’ve pushed it away as a wishful fantasy—that Eiji could ever want him like that, that anyone would ever want him as anything but a quick and pretty fuck? Impossible.

But here Eiji is, holding him, making him tea, teaching him how to breathe again. Taking care of him, telling him that he wants him to be happy. And maybe, maybe there’s something to what Eiji said, about his life being his own, about healing, and growing, and…

He glances at the teapot again. Its golden cracks shine proudly across its surface.

He swallows hard. “Would… would it… make _you_ happy?”

“That isn’t what we’re talking about, Ash,” Eiji deflects, but Ash shakes his head.

“It is,” he says. “I… please? I want to know.”

He thinks about their bed. Thinks about their cotton sheets, clean and fresh-scented, not silk heavy with the stench of perfumes and sex. Thinks about Eiji’s hands, about Eiji’s mouth. Thinks about Eiji, relaxed and laughing, laying there warm and naked and wanting. Thinks about Eiji in his arms, pressed against his chest, gasping, moaning—

“I… don’t know?”

Eiji ducks his head, and Ash jerks himself out of his thoughts, guilt stabbing him in the chest. How could he think about Eiji like that, when Eiji doesn’t even know if he would be willing? How _could_ he?

“I mean,” Eiji continues, “I’ve always, um… I guess I’ve been curious, what it’s like and all, but… I’ve never been with—I don’t know anything about it, so I don’t know if I can say?” He glances at Ash out of the corner of his eye, almost like a skittish rabbit, and bites his lip. “So I mean, I, um, I would be willing to try it, if you—if you ever wanted? But I would never want to—I couldn’t—I would never _fuck you,”_ and he wrinkles his nose in distaste.

Just like a bunny, Ash thinks again, and he _has_ to kiss him. It’s a slow, gentle kiss, their hands still joined in Eiji’s lap while Ash is careful not to spill his tea, but he lingers and Eiji sighs sweetly, leaning into him. When he pulls back, Eiji’s smiling softly.

“I’ve never wanted it with anyone before,” Ash murmurs, laying his cheek on Eiji’s shoulder. The harsh, painful guilt simmers back down as fast as it came, leaving him needy and sad again, but strangely warm, too. Eiji always has that effect on him. “And I—I don’t know if I want it, even with you. I don’t know how I feel.”

“That’s okay,” Eiji assures him, squeezing his hand. “You do not need to know yet. Or ever.”

Ash nods. “But… if I ever do figure it out, can… should I…”

“You can talk to me, and we can see how we feel from there?” Eiji offers. He looks less flustered and more calm now, his smile sweet even though his cheeks are still pink. “There is no time limit on this, Ash.”

“Yeah.” Ash sighs, leans in, and steals another kiss. “Yeah. That… sounds good.”

“Good. Now drink your tea,” Eiji tells him, touching his cheek tenderly before he withdraws. “It will not be good if it gets cold.”

Ash feels a slight smile tug at his mouth. “Yes, Onii-chan. Thanks.”

Eiji turns bright red again, looking scandalized. “Ash! Do _not_ call me that right after we were talking about—about—”

Ash lays his head on his shoulder and laughs. It’s barely there: just a tiny, soft, breathy laugh, but just a few minutes ago he was panicking so hard he thought he’d never laugh again, and now here he is. Eiji is a miracle worker.

Eiji huffs, letting go of his hand to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “You are…”

“Obnoxious?” Ash offers. “A pain? Annoying?”

Eiji swats him in rebuke. “No, no, no. You are just… Ash,” and he sighs, rubbing the spot on his shoulder that he just smacked. “Drink. No more talking.”

Ash leans into him and lifts the tea to his mouth. It’s warm and earthy and fragrant, grounding in the same way Eiji’s touch is, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds to savor it as it flows down his throat.

“I think, if I had to pick a flavor to represent you, it would be green tea,” he tells Eiji. “Given how much you make me drink the stuff.”

“You would be mustard,” Eiji says, grinning slyly into his own cup.

“I don’t even like mustard that much.” Ash gives him a dirty look, curling into his side. “You just like to complain, you baby.”

Eiji laughs and squeezes his shoulders, pressing him close. “Mmm, Ash, I love you,” he sighs, and nuzzles a kiss to his cheek. “My sweet, lovely Ash. My darling Ash.”

Ash feels his cheeks heat, and he ducks his head even as the endearments seep into his chest and wrap themselves tenderly around his heart, filling him to the core with warmth. “I didn’t even do anything,” he complains, hiding behind his tea. “Eiji…”

Eiji kisses his jaw, smiling. “You do not have to do anything. I just love you as you are.”

Ash takes another sip of tea to hide behind the cup, but Eiji just smiles at him and strokes his fingers along the shell of his ear and down into the hair at the nape of his neck, so genuine and tender that all of the embarrassment drains away.

Eiji just loves him. That’s all.

He drains the rest of the tea, puts the cup down carefully, and wraps himself around Eiji, tucking his face back into Eiji’s neck and throwing one leg over his lap as he slips his arms around his waist. Eiji laughs softly and lets him maneuver him however he wants, expertly balancing his teacup without letting a drop spill as Ash arranges himself.

“You will be okay, my Ash.” Eiji wraps his free arm around him and rubs his back. “I am here. I will not go anywhere. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Ash mumbles, closing his eyes. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“And you are the best thing that ever happened to me.” Eiji kisses his hair as he opens his mouth to argue. “No, that was not a question, Ash dearest. You are.”

“But—”

Eiji’s hand slips up to his hair and smushes his face into his neck to shut him up. He laughs again, soft and breathy, and presses a kiss to Eiji’s throat instead.

“Everything will be okay,” Eiji tells him again. “You are healing.”

“Maybe,” Ash allows.

Eiji’s hand is warm, resting on the back of his neck. Ash sighs, pressing close to him, soaking up the sunshine he radiates. Eiji’s thumb caresses across his skin. “You are,” he says. “And I will be here to help you every step of the way.”

Hands. Hands that soothe him, like aloe on a burn. Hands that keep him safe.

“It was fucked up,” Ash mumbles, closing his eyes again. “What they did to me.”

“It was.” Eiji’s thumb strokes across the base of his neck, slow and soothing. “It was horrific. No one should have to endure things like that.”

Kippard, Marvin, Garvey, Foxx, Dino; the nameless, faceless men he can’t even remember anymore past the haze of drugs and exhaustion. There’s too many to bother to differentiate. He hates all of them for breaking him so thoroughly.

“I hate them so much, Eiji.” His voice is quieter. “I _hate_ them.”

“I know.” Eiji leans forward, sets his own empty cup aside, and kisses Ash’s hair, lingering and gentle. “I know, my Ash. I hate them, too, for hurting you. But none of them will ever touch you again.”

“That’s not—” and Ash blows out a breath. “That’s not the point, I just—you say I’m healing, but I… how can I heal from _that?_ I just—I’m _broken,_ aren’t I?”

“No.”

Eiji shifts him, then, pulls back a little, and cups his face in both hands. They’re warm. Ash looks at him plaintively; he’s exhausted from crying, but the silence in his head is deafening. He doesn’t know what to think.

“You are not broken, Aslan Jade Callenreese.” Eiji squishes his cheeks gently, leans their foreheads together. “You have been deeply hurt. But you are healing. I promise, I see it, even if you do not. And I would not lie to you. Not about this.”

Ash stares at him for a moment, his chest aching as his heart fights his mind, Eiji’s light versus his own darkness. His vision blurs alarmingly fast, and to his chagrin, hot tears roll down his cheeks again, two rapidly-cooling trails in their wake as they drip from his chin.

“Ash!” Eiji thumbs them away, worry written in every line of his face. “Oh, my sweet Ash. My lovely Ash. It is okay. I am here.”

“I know,” Ash chokes out, and bows his head, tucks it into Eiji’s shoulder again. His eyes are sore and tired from crying, and he lets out a shuddering sigh, closing them despite the burn of it. “I know.”

“Good.” Eiji wraps his arms around him, rubs his back, and draws him close, turning on the couch to face him fully. “You _are_ healing, my darling Ash. Do you remember how much I had to track you down to get you to talk to me, a year ago? Two? And now you _come_ to me like this. You are making such wonderful progress, my angel.”

“You’re the angel,” Ash blurts, and wipes his eyes. He lifts his head, tentative, and peeps up at Eiji; Eiji meets his gaze with a warm smile.

“No, you are.” He kisses the tip of Ash’s nose. “I will win this argument, so do not even start.”

Ash hesitates, then sighs and drops his head back to Eiji’s shoulder. Eiji’s right; Ash doesn’t have the energy for a playful argument right now. “Okay.”

Eiji coos and rubs his back again. “Oh, Ash. Don’t sound so sad—we can both be angels, does that make you happy?”

Ash lets out a tiny laugh, a fragile bud of warmth blossoming in his chest despite himself. A strong wind would kill it before it reaches full bloom, but for now it perseveres, trying to turn its thin-petaled face up to Eiji’s sunlight. “Yeah. I guess that works.”

“Good,” Eiji says, and presses a kiss into his hair. “How do you feel?”

Ash makes a vague, noncommittal, kind of distressed noise. It’s mostly just a whine that goes kind of like _uugghhhhhmmmpphhhh,_ muffled into Eiji’s neck.

Eiji’s quiet for a second. Then he chuckles, and Ash can feel it in his chest. “Okay. I can work with that. Do you want more tea?”

“Maybe later.” Ash blows out a sigh. He feels heavy, and tired, and sad. “Right now I just… want to sit here.”

“Okay!” Eiji chirps. “That’s easy. One second, let me get a blanket, okay?”

Ash obediently pulls away, folds his hands in his lap, and lets Eiji get up and go to the hall closet to get one of their spare blankets. It’s the fuzzy blue one, and he comes back with a smile, settling down next to the armrest and holding his arms out to Ash.

Ash scoots over to him, tentatively settling between his legs. Eiji leans back against the armrest and draws him against his chest, then drapes the blanket over them both, arms around Ash under it.

“Mm, there we go.” He kisses Ash’s forehead. “Cozy?”

The blue blanket is nice and heavy, and it makes Ash feel like the world is a little smaller, reduced to the space between himself and Eiji. There’s a kind of irony in how something as childish as hiding under a blanket makes him feel safe, he who was robbed of a childhood in such a thorough fashion, but thinking about it makes him sad, so he focuses on the comforting weight of Eiji’s arms around him.

“Cozy,” he agrees, and sighs. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Eiji promises, and kisses his hair. “Do you want to sleep?”

“No.” Ash’s answer is immediate and a bit tense. If he tries to sleep right now, he’ll fall back into a pit of nightmares, and he’ll be right back where he was when Eiji found him in the living room after he fled from the video call. “I just want—I just want to be close. Please?”

“Of course, Ash,” Eiji says kindly, and rubs his back. “Whatever you want. I am all yours.”

And maybe, maybe, _maybe_ Eiji’s right and he _is_ healing, because this is something new, too. Eiji’s happy to say _I am all yours,_ something Ash has heard told to him in reverse so many times. _You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine._

Eiji told him that he’s attracted to him, that he might like to have sex with him one day. And yet he still says to Ash, _I’m yours,_ and Ash still feels safe with him.

It’s something new, but it’s not something bad.

Ash curls up in his arms, lays his head on his chest, and lets out a breath. Eiji’s T-shirt is soft under his cheek, and the warmth of his body seeps through as Ash lies on him. He can feel Eiji’s heart beating in his chest, strong and steady.

Eiji pulls the blanket up, tucks it under Ash’s chin. Ash glances up at him for a second, then lets his gaze fall back to the teapot in front of him, tracing the golden cracks with his eyes.

“You really think I don’t have to be broken forever?”

“I promise.” Eiji kisses the top of his head so sweetly that tears prick at Ash’s eyes again. “I promise I do. I do not think you were ever broken beyond repair.”

The cracks look kind of like lightning. Fitting—a single moment shattered the teapot, just like a bolt of lightning. The instant it struck the floor, it was marked: it would never be the same.

But it still fulfills its purpose. It holds tea.

And within the cracks, filled with gold, there’s a different beauty. Not the same beauty that the teapot must have possessed at first, but a beauty nonetheless.

“Broken beyond repair,” Ash repeats, slowly.

“You never were.” One of Eiji’s hands leaves the blanket to stroke his hair back from his face, and Ash closes his eyes, leaning into his touch. He loves when Eiji plays with his hair. “You were always a flower, waiting to bloom. All you needed was love. And now look at you.”

Ash snorts at that. “Yeah. Look at me. Having a breakdown because I can’t handle seeing a kid being a kid.” 

“Ash.” Eiji’s fingers thread into his hair, stroking against his scalp. “You know what I mean. You are doing so, so much better than you were in New York. You have come so far. You are here with me, and you are making a new life for yourself. Do not discount your own achievements, and do not berate yourself for still having… symptoms? Is that the right word?”

“Yeah.” Ash blinks up at him before he closes his eyes again, leaning into his touch further. He even tips his head up to press into Eiji’s palm, sighing. “I… get what you mean, I just… I’m not very good at being optimistic about the future.”

“I know,” Eiji says, and scrunches his fingers through his hair. Ash melts, and Eiji hums, amused. “You big cat.”

This time, Ash can say it. “Meow.”

Eiji laughs and hugs him tight, and Ash blinks up at him plaintively. Eiji takes that opportunity to kiss his forehead, smiling warmly, and the fragile flower blooming in Ash’s heart opens a little further in his light.

“You are so cute,” Eiji tells him, and kisses his forehead again. “I know you struggle with seeing positive things. And with believing them. That,” and he presses a third kiss to Ash’s forehead, “is why you have me.”

Ash scoots up a little, nestles himself against Eiji’s shoulder and leans his face against his neck. Eiji’s warm and comforting, and he smells of jasmine. “To remind me?”

“Mm-hmm!” Eiji hums in affirmation. “And to be positive when you cannot do it yourself, and to take care of you in general!”

Ash smiles slightly. “I’m so lucky.”

Eiji strokes his hair some more. “I do not know if I would call it luck. I like to think that we were always meant to find each other, somehow or other.”

That’s a nice thought. Ash doesn’t quite share it; he’s constantly aware of how easy it would’ve been for a stray bullet to take Eiji from him, for the bullet that lodged into his side to have been just a little higher, for Eiji to have never met him at all.

But what’s nicer than dwelling on that is the feeling of Eiji’s fingers in his hair, slow and soothing. He sighs.

Hands. Hands that hold him and soothe him until he feels _safe._

He sighs, curling up close to Eiji. He glances at the teapot again, once, and then reaches up to catch Eiji’s wrist, to bring his hand to his mouth, to kiss his palm.

“You’re cute,” Eiji tells him again, voice immeasurably fond.

“I like your hands,” Ash answers, and lets go.

“You do?” Eiji’s fingers thread into his hair again, stroking it to the rhythm of a song only he can hear. Ash closes his eyes, sighing again. Eiji’s warm, and the blanket is heavy, and his body is weary and wired and tense; he wants nothing more than to lie here, anchored in this moment, for the rest of time.

“Mm. They’re good hands.”

“Huh. Thank you.” Eiji ruffles his hair. “I think you are just saying that because you like when I play with your hair.”

Ash snorts. It’s true, he does like that, but…

“No, I mean… most people touching me makes me freak out. But when it’s you touching me, I feel… safe. I like your hands, and only your hands.”

“Oh,” Eiji says, and then more softly, breathlessly, “Oh, _Ash.”_

He sweeps him up in a tight hug, and Ash sinks into him with a shaky breath in response. Eiji’s hugs are safe, and being held this fiercely soothes him more than he thought possible. He burrows into Eiji’s neck and clutches two handfuls of his shirt under the blanket, and Eiji rocks him gently side-to-side.

“I will always keep you safe,” Eiji swears, and kisses his hair. “Always, always, always.”

And it’s funny, Ash thinks. Because Eiji’s not the one who’s supposed to do the safekeeping, of the two of them. Eiji’s not a fighter. Eiji’s the treasure that Ash curls himself around, the heart that Ash has to protect.

And yet, as Eiji presses kisses with the wings of promises into his hair, over and over and over, none of that seems to matter. _I’ll keep you safe,_ he says, and right now, Ash finds that he believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> hi ive been listening to sad songs on loop because im sad take this please tell me i did good


End file.
